The Bleeding Heart
by Hana-Akikage
Summary: In a the garden of a large castle on top of a mountain, right in between the other flowers, was a plant. A single green bud hidden in a mass of leaves and colorful flowers could have been easily missed by anyone else if it wasn't for one tiny detail, and only Alfred knew what it was. USUK [Characters to be introduced in the extras: Francis, Kiku, Arthur's Brothers and more]
1. The Bleeding Heart

**This is going to be a story with one main idea (this chapter) and multiple extras or omakes that will be in other chapters that includes other characters in thus AU.**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

Alfred loved his job

Okay, so walking up a creepy looking mountain to get to the equally creepy looking castle at the top just to get it may have not been his best idea. But he was broke, desperate, and qualified, so the moment he saw the 'help wanted' sign in front of the town hall he decided to take it, no questions asked.

Except . . . maybe he should have asked for directions first, but he still made it there in one piece, _and_ he got the job; he has now been working there for ten years.

In those ten years he found out three things. One, magic was 100% real. Why? You ask? Because he hasn't aged a day in those ten years, and neither did the other people working there. Two, his boss was a seriously hard-core OP magic user.

After his third year, he started noticing the not-aging thing (which was totally not in the job description) so he asked around and found out that his boss was the source of _all_ the magic in the castle grounds; from the stables to the gardens where Alfred works. Everything in the castle runs on magic, and that magic comes from his boss. Being in contact with such potent for so long, the people in the castle start to absorb it and causes them to stop (or at least _really_ slow down) their aging process.

The third thing was his boss had no heart.

Well, he had a physical, beating heart in his chest ('cause if he didn't he would have been dead . . . probably . . . well, maybe not, Alfred still wasn't sure about this whole _magic_ business), he just wasn't able to feel any emotions.

See, emotions are a very important part of magic, the more passion one puts in a spell or charm or potion-thing, the stronger it gets. Even without his emotions his boss was already Over Powered, how much more powerful could he have been before?

So, he had a rival, this rival got so jealous of him that he used some seriously illegal magic to lock all of his emotions and stuff and threw it away. _Poof_! Just like that, he wasn't able to smile, frown, or feel anything else ever since.

None of the servants in the castle knew where it was hidden (there were some rumors that said the other guy _destroyed_ the boss' heart, but no one talked about it much), so Alfred stopped asking around. He only met his boss once, when he got the job, so Alfred didn't even think about that much.

But still, he _really_ loved his job.

Putting on his sunhat, he went out of the castle and into the grounds to the garden he was assigned to take care of. After he did his routine watering and weeding, he went to find his favorite flower in the castle.

Right in between the daffodils, thistles, and the irises was a single plant. It was completely surrounded by the other flowers that it could have been easy to miss, especially with the fact that it was the only flower that hasn't bloomed yet. A single green bud hidden in a mass of leaves and colorful flowers could have been easily missed by anyone else, even Alfred, if it wasn't for one tiny detail.

It could talk.

Yes, that sounds crazy. Even in a huge castle enveloped in magic 24/7 and a garden with flowers that bloom even in the winter (except one, of course), it was the only one that can do that. No, it does not have a face, or mouth, or even vocal chords that it uses to talk, somehow it just does.

And it only talks to Alfred

The other servants knew nothing of a talking flower bud in the middle of the garden, and there wasn't a gardener before Alfred (they said that the boss was the only one who was allowed to tend to it before, and Alfred was not going up to the top of the castle to the man's study just to ask him about that, besides, he wasn't even sure if the boss knew). Maybe he was going crazy, but Alfred didn't care much. It was fun to have someone to talk to while he was gardening, even if there _is_ a chance that he was just talking to himself.

So, every break time he would unpack his lunch and sit in front of the flower, and they would talk.

It would usually be about mundane things. Alfred would talk about his day, what he did and other stuff like that, then the flower bud would respond, the roses were fighting with the sunflowers again, the iris is trying to overpower the other flowers with its scent, and the cornflowers would try to keep everyone in order _again._

Then, Alfred would work again, trimming the bushes into different shapes, pouring the fertilizer, and pulling out more weeds. Before he would retire into the castle for the day, he would say goodbye to the little flower bud and pet it a bit before going inside (he thinks the flower would turn pink for a bit, but maybe that was just Alfred).

* * *

Alfred woke up to the sound of something trying to break through the wards.

Usually, he would just shrug it off (because occasionally a bird would accidentally hit it like a glass door of a building in the more urban areas), but the thumps kept getting louder and louder . . . then he heard a crack.

He looked out the window, and was promptly terrified.

Passing through a large gap through the wards was a small army of shades (another type of magic that should have been _banned_ ). They entered the grounds and started banging on the door; the alarms started blaring inside.

Alfred ran out and went to his position (it was mandatory on the first day that they would run through some emergency scenarios; it just so happened that an attack, like this one, was one of them). He was tasked to guard the most important herbs and rare plants that the boss needed for some of his spells.

He ignored the other servants running to their places and ran towards the garden; luckily, his room was near so it only took a few minutes. Holding his spade (a magic one, obviously) in his hand, he slashed at the shades in his way and went over to his post.

Using his special spade and abnormal strength (one of the perks of working in a magic castle) he cut through the shades trying to destroy the spell plants. More came, and he got ready, back facing the area where they were located.

But the shades weren't coming towards him.

They changed direction and bounded towards the flowers. Alfred stood, frozen in place, wondering at first what they were trying to get from there . . . Then he remembered the one magical thing that was in the flower beds.

Alfred ran, his spade in front of him, shielding the little bud. He slashed at and cut through anything in his way, not letting a single shade get through.

He was starting to get tired, cuts and bruises appearing on his face from where some shades were able to land a few hits. Soon the shades stopped moving, Alfred looked up and saw the boss on the terrace, holding out his hands, emitting a whitish-gold kind of glow. He muttered a few words (probably a spell) and closed his hands into a fist.

The shades shattered into tiny white flecks, and Alfred finally let his body relax as he dropped to the ground in front of the bud.

"Hey?" Alfred muttered, "You alright?"

The flower bud answered, wilting a bit towards Alfred and a small dewdrop fell from its petals, "You are a bloody idiot." Alfred passed out after that.

* * *

The first thing Alfred saw when he work up was white, so he did what anyone would have done if they were in his situation . . . He panicked.

 _Oh gosh! Am I dead?! NO! I CAN'T BE!_

Alfred flailed around in alarm, looking around the pure white room, screaming out repeatedly that he wasn't ready to die yet.

Until he felt what he was lying on and finally _saw_ where he was.

Unlike what he thought earlier, the fluffy thing he was lying on was _not_ a cloud; instead, he was lying on a white bed wearing what looks like a hospital gown. The room he was in was sterile-white, in front of him and beside him were rows of identical looking beds, separated by open privacy curtains,

Alfred let out a sigh of relief and lay back down . . . until he noticed that he wasn't the only one in the room.

"Gah!"He sat up quickly. Body protesting, Alfred put a hand on his stomach which started throbbing at the motion. He felt the bandages wrapped around his torso and started rubbing it in circles, trying to sooth the complaining body part. "Ow?"

The other two people in the room both sighed (Alfred was _sure_ one of them rolled their eyes at him); after his stomach started to feel a bit better, he turned towards the two.

One had a bright smile on his face . . . and quite possibly floating flowers in the background. He held a clipboard and started to jot down a few notes on it. Alfred had met him before on his first day when he tried to trim the rose bare-handed, long story short: he made sure to wear gloves while working from then on.

The castle's resident healer examined the bandages on his arms and chest, after a while he wrote something else on his clipboard then he showed it to the person beside him, the man's deadpan expression never changing. The healer gave the man a small nod and left the room (probably to get some supplies to lessen the throbbing that Alfred was starting to feel again).

The door to the infirmary shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Alfred turned to his boss, who was looking at him with his usual stoic expression (it freaked him out the first time, thinking he did something wrong, but then someone explained the whole thing and Alfred started to get used to it after a while). Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but his boss spoke first.

"You are a bloody idiot." he said "Why would you risk your life for . . . flowers?"

Alfred answered, "Well, that's my job, sir,"

"No it isn't." he deadpanned, "Your job was to protect the spell herbs and keep the invaders from getting to it. Not almost dying for a bunch of flowers."

"Nu-uh! My job is to take care of _all_ the plants. That includes the flowers! I couldn't've let those shades pull out all the pretty flowers I've been taking care of for the past ten years."

The man in front of him shrugged, "We can just plant more"

"But they're special!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Alfred, they are just flowers."

Ignoring the fact that somehow his boss knew his name, Alfred just continued to defend his side to the person in front of him.

"One of them is _really_ special to me!"

His boss stayed silent, and for a split second Alfred thought he saw something flash in his eyes, but then it was gone before Alfred could figure out what it was.

The man just stared at him, then turned around and walked away.

After his boss left the room, the healer went back and fixed some things up, telling him he is in the clear to leave now, but Alfred didn't notice.

He just stared after the door, trying to remember what he saw on his boss' face.

* * *

Alfred lay down on the infirmary bed, bored.

He couldn't sleep and has been tossing and turning for hours. Deciding he couldn't sleep unless he did something, he stood up and walked around. He passed by the window when something caught his attention.

His boss was in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, talking to his flower (well . . . not exclusively his, but Alfred was under the impression that the bud would only talk to him); at first he was confused, then jealous for some reason (of what, he wasn't really sure), then he felt as though it was alright. As if his boss talking to a flower that Alfred was at least 50% his imagination was normal, it just felt . . . right.

He leant against the windowsill with a soft smile on his face, not once thinking of the consequences of spying on his boss while he had a private (?) conversation with a . . . flower bud (?). He watched the two talk, even though he wasn't able to hear a word they were saying; but his smile quickly turned into a frown once he saw the expression on his boss' face.

It was there again, that flash of . . . something. It was gone and Alfred wasn't able to put a name to it.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Trying to remember the look, but it escaped his mind once more.

When he opened his eyes he saw his boss looking at him, again it flashed in his eyes, and again Alfred wasn't fast enough to catch it. Alfred would've pulled at his hair and banged his head on the nearest wall, if it wasn't for the fact that he was still locking eyes with his boss.

Coming back to his senses, Alfred ducked down under the window and put his head on his knees. Heart thumping loudly, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

Finally, his heart went back to its normal pace, slowing down from the (exhilaration? fear?) he felt and racked up the courage to peek through the window. Alfred wasn't sure if he should be happy or sad that his boss wasn't there anymore.

Shrugging it off, he walked back to his bed and lied down. Taking a deep breath, he sank down into his sheets and one thought was left in his mind as he let sleep take over.

 _What was that?_

And not even his half-asleep mind knew what exactly he was talking about.

* * *

There was a curse in the mail.

The boss' brothers sending one was a normal occasion. Usually the cutlery would run away or everyone in the castle would turn blue or something at least once a month. But this one was different.

All four of his brothers (whether intentionally or not) sent him the exact same curse on the same day, making it four times as powerful. So the average cold spell ended up making the boss bedridden with flu, a 41 Celsius fever, and his magic was going haywire.

Alfred didn't care much about the lack of light or shortage of food or water (that was the other servants' job, not him); all he knew was that his precious plants were wilting from the lack of magic keeping them alive.

He ran around the garden, watering the plants and giving them fertilizer and the specialized medicine that can temporarily produce the magic they need to survive, occasionally stealing glances towards the flower bud; while it was slightly drooping, it was nowhere near the state of the other plants, so Alfred focused on keeping the others alive, breaking his routine a bit until the boss got better.

After a magic-full or magic-less week (depending on the day), everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the curse wore off and everything went back to normal.

So when morning came, Alfred went to the garden to do his routine, checking if every plant survived and if they were alright before going to the flower bud (who didn't seem as affected at the fluctuation of magic as the others were), freezing in place when he saw it wilting to the ground and turning a light shade of brown.

Alfred dropped everything he was holding and ran over to see what was wrong. Kneeling down, he removed his sunhat and put it over the wilting but to shade it from the sun, hoping it can help, but the flower just drooped more at his actions.

"Hey? You alright?" Alfred panicked a bit when it turned its bud to the side as if to look away from him. "Did I do something wrong? C'mon talk to me man!" His lip wobbled a bit when it shook its bud.

"Nothing, it's nothing you need to worry about. I'm fine." It said.

"Like heck you are!" Alfred stood up letting go of his hat, making it fall to the ground next to the bud. "Seriously dude . . . what's wrong?"

" . . ." At first it said nothing, and then the flower bud straightened as if to ready itself with what it was going to say. "Why?" it asked.

Alfred said nothing, waiting for it to continue. The flower bud curled into itself, leaves and bud, drawing in near its stem. "I- . . . I'm not as pretty as the roses or magnolias and the other flowers, I can't give out wishes, I can't make people smile, and I don't smell or look all that nice; you can't make a garland, bouquet, crown, or even tea with me.

"I'm just a bud that does nothing but take away the nutrients, water, and magic that the others need. No one would even think twice about me . . . so why? Why would you put everything aside just to speak with me and spend time with me?"

Alfred stayed silent, shocked at what it was saying. Not hearing any response, the bud withered more, the tips of its not-yet-formed petals moist with dew (and Alfred was pretty sure he knew what that meant).

"Uh." Alfred started, "I never cared about any of those things-"

"But that's what flowers are for!" the bud cut off, "We're supposed to look pretty and smell nice and-"it shivered, "and . . ."

"Well . . . that's not the reason I do those things." Alfred reasoned.

"Oh . . . I understand."

"Great!" Alfred jumped, but the bud continued, "It's because I can talk isn't it?"

Alfred went silent.

"The reason you talk to me is because you know I can answer back. If I wasn't like this you wouldn't've paid any attention to me!" it ended with a shout, then it continues in a soft voice, as if to talk to itself. "He was right; you're just like the rest of them."

Alfred thought for a long time, trying to choose his words wisely (for probably the first time in his life). He then waited for the bud to calm down before saying his piece.

"It's true that's one of the reasons-"the flower bud started to wilt again, its petals turning crinkly and brown. "Wait! Let me finish first!"

The wilting stopped, but it continued to turn away from Alfred. So he reached out and softly pet its small bud, startling it.

"I said it's _one_ of the reasons. It's the reason I approached you in the first place . . . but it's not the reason that I stayed." The dew on its petals started to drip down and Alfred wiped it away with his thumb. "What made me stay, keep talking to you every day, what made you a very important part of my life . . . was you."

The bud froze in place, not daring to move or even say one of its usual sarcastic remarks.

"In all the times we talked, you kept surprising me. I found out you were sarcastic, stubborn, sometimes in-denial, a bit sadistic, and maybe a little jealous of the other flowers." Alfred smiled. "But I also saw that you were kind, surprisingly gentle, and a mother-hen, and . . . it was beautiful.

"I don't know what made you stop trusting people, but I promise I won't be like them! So please just trust me, I won't make you regret putting down your guards and opening up your heart . . . Even if it's just for somebody like me."

"Not-"the flower bud hesitated. "Not just somebody like you. I'm willing to try it, only for you . . . but promise me you won't-"its voice broke. "Please don't leave."

"I won't, I promise, no matter what happens." A serious look crossed Alfred's face, silently pleading for the flower to try.

To others, it might have been anti-climactic, but to Alfred? It was perfect. The little bud's closed petals (damp and wrinkly from what just happened) slowly opened. Spreading open and separating from each other, forming the shape of a heart.

A Bleeding Heart

It looked so tiny and frail. Alfred's heart clenched and it took all of him not to take it into his arms and never let go of this tiny, pink, delicate flower.

"I-"the recently opened flower started. "I know you promised, but can you please do it again?"

Alfred did not hesitate (even if he has no idea why it's asking that of him, surely he didn't have a negative reaction?) "I do! I- I mean, I promise!"

The flower nodded at him and started to disappear from the top down. Alfred started to panic a bit but calmed down when it addressed him again. "You promised, alright?"

It disappeared completely, leaving a small ball of light (the size of a tiny seed) and it flew (?) towards the castle. Quickly standing up, Alfred followed it, not caring for the looks the other servants in the castle sent his way.

It led him towards one of the most secluded parts of the castle, the boss' personal study, and flew straight through the door. Steeling himself for the deadpan speech about "disturbing his privacy" that his boss was going to give him for barging into his study, Alfred opened the door.

His boss was sitting in his chair, a book on his lap, and the ball of light was directly in front of him. They both turned to him (at least, it looked like the ball of light did . . . somehow) and said in unison, one out loud and one in his head.

"You promised, alright?"

They turned to each other (again, Alfred wasn't sure how they did it exactly) and his boss closed his eyes. The ball of light, that used to be the flower, hovered slowly to his chest, hesitating slightly.

Alfred spoke, not quite sure what came over him. "I promise!"

The ball of light continued to its destination, Alfred's words giving it the strength it needed. His boss didn't move, fully accepting what it was doing. It pushed itself into his chest and slowly disappeared, leaving Alfred alone in the room with his boss.

His superior spoke (and Alfred was silently cursing himself for not noticing the similarities between his voice and the flower bud's) "I know that you promised to stay-"his voice emotional, taking Alfred by surprise, "But I really won't blame you if you'll leave. I- I'm used to it. I'm sure you're very confused a-and I understand if you wish to stay away. After all that's happene-"

Alfred, after going over his shock (and slight annoyance at what the other was saying) cut off the self-depreciating monologue.

"What kind of person do you think I am?!" the other man flinched at Alfred's tone, trying to hide it he pretended to cough into his fist, but Alfred still saw it. Feeling guilty, Alfred closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

"M . . . sry . . ."

Alfred opened his eyes and stared. In front of him, staring at his hands with a small collection of tears in his eyes was Alfred's boss. Realizing that he didn't understand what was said, Alfred answered with a very eloquent: "Wuh?"

Looking up (obviously trying to hold back the tears in his eyes from coming down) his boss put on a face that he must've thought looked brave. Instead, Alfred saw fear.

He was afraid. Afraid that Alfred knew what was happening and decides to leave; afraid that Alfred would break his promise; afraid that he would be left alone again. Alfred wasn't sure if he should be glad that he could finally put a name to the look that he kept seeing cross the other man's face

"I'm sorry" his boss repeated. "You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when I made you promise to stay. I- I release you from your promise, so you don't have to feel guilty about leavin-"

"Wait-wait-wait!" Alfred cut off "What makes you think I was leaving!?"

His superior stared, dumbfounded.

"I'm not staying just because of some promise. I'm staying because I want to." Alfred paused to let what he said sink in. "I know a lot about the flower-you, and I can't wait to find out more about you. So please let me stay . . ." he trailed off realizing he didn't even know the man's name "boss . . ." he finished lamely.

"Arthur" the other man mumbled. "Arthur Kirkland"

Blinking, Alfred tested out the name and felt that it fit the man in front of him perfectly. "Arthur!" Smiling brightly, Alfred moved towards the man (now named Arthur). Putting a hand on his heart, he knelt down on one knee with his head bowed, trying to make sure that what he will say next is as serious and as binding as possible.

"I made a promise to the flower-you, to your heart. Now I swear in front of the whole-you the promise I made before. I, Alfred F. Jones, promise to never leave you; no matter what happens." He stood up and pointed at Arthur with one hand on his hip. "So you better get used to me, 'cause I won't go even if you want me to!"

Arthur blushed and looked away. "After everything that I've said, what makes you think that I'm letting you go that easily, you git?"

"C'mon! I need a formal answer. If you won't give me one all that work I put in making that promise will be wasted!"

Arthur stood from his seat and straightened, Alfred kneeled again. Arthur put a little bit of his magic in his hand (now stronger with his recently acquired emotions) and stretched it out to Alfred, who took it in his hand, the other going back to his chest.

"I fully accept this promise. May this be formally bound with both our magic and souls. Naught but separation by death may this vow be broken."

Alfred took Arthur's hand and gave it a small peck, feeling the magic charge the air filling the room with a warm feeling, making the two of them blush.

The two stared at each other for a while before a squeal near the door tore them away from the world they were stuck in. Looking over towards the door, they saw it slightly open with blushing faces of the female (and some male) servants peeking through, hands over their mouths and eyes smiling.

Hearing the man beside him stuttering excuses, Alfred just stood up and took Arthur's hand in his, resting his head on the other's, and gave the small audience a blinding smile.

Yes, Alfred loved his job.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Flowers: (Mostly national flowers)**

 **Bleeding heart – I was planning to use the rose, but since it seemed kinda redundant (it's used a lot), I came across this flower in another story (please help me, it's a hetalia fic as well but I really don't remember what it's about) and I fell in love with it. . . plus it was perfect for the story ^-^**

 **Thistle – National flower of Scotland**

 **Daffodil – National flower of Wales**

 **Iris – National flower of France**

 **Sunflower – I was going to use Chamomile (National flower of Russia) but I thought it would have been better to use this one because of all the references in the anime and fandom regarding the Sunflowers and Russia.**

 **Rose – Although the Tudor Rose is England's National Flower, the Rose is also the national flower of the USA**

 **Cornflower – National flower of Germany**

 **Words:**

 **Wards – "a type of magic intended to turn away harm or evil influences, as in deflecting misfortune or averting the evil eye."**

 **Shade – "In literature and poetry, a shade (translating Greek σκιά, Latin umbra) can be taken to mean the spirit or ghost of a dead person, residing in the underworld."**

 **41 Celsius –around 106 Fahrenheit I think? (We use Celsius where I come from)**


	2. Omake 1

**Thanks for those who faved, followed, and reviewed!**

 **You guys are awesome.**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

Arthur knelt in his garden, trying to remember what it felt like to feel the breeze go through his face, the smell of the fresh dew, the flowers and herbs surrounding him. Joy, Love, Content, Peacefulness.

But he couldn't feel those, not anymore. So he just walked along the garden towards the flowerbed, where an inconspicuous flower bud lay in the middle of the thistles, daffodils and irises. Where his heart lay, trapped.

He approached his heart, unsure as to how he would voice _concern_ when he isn't able to feel it. He took a deep breath, deadpan expression still on, and addressed the bud. "I know what you are trying to do, but you should just give up."

The bud turned red and its petals turned down as if to mimic a frown. "I won't"

Being so close to his heart, Arthur was able to be connected to it slightly, making him able to feel small emotions for a short period of time. Now, all he felt was fear. "It's been so long . . . I don't know what I'll do even if it does work. I-"

"It will be fine." The bud cut off.

"Are- Are you sure about this? Because I don't think I can take it if he'll just leave." The heart said nothing. "And he will . . . I'm sure he will . . . Just like all the others."

"But he might not." The bud said.

"But he might." Arthur answered back. He looked away from his heart and turned towards the infirmary where he knew Alfred was looking through with his eyes closed; but he was sure the other wasn't able to hear what they were saying. "Please don't do this, he might be able to heal us, but that would mean I can feel again . . . I can get hurt again. Getting back my full power is not worth it if he'll just leave."

He made eye contact with Alfred when the younger man opened his eyes. Arthur saw him freeze and duck down the window and away from sight. Arthur turned away and faced his heart again.

"We'll never know if we don't try." Arthur closed his eyes at the bud's statement, memories of the past flashing through his mind, every single one proving that what he will say next is the truth. "We are not enough. We are never enough. Sooner or later, he will find someone else and then he will leave, and this time we will feel it a thousand times more because he was the one who made us whole again. I already got used to not feeling anymore. I'd rather stay like this than go through all that pain again."

"I trust him." His heart answered. "You should trust him too. I'm sure we made the right choice. He will not leave."

"I cannot trust anymore, I cannot feel anymore. Only you can."

"But you used to." His heart contradicted. "We were one and the same, soon we will be again."

Arthur replied, his voice defeated, "For our sake I hope you are right; but after everything we've been through, I know for sure that you are wrong."

But it was right, and Arthur was forever glad he had been wrong.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Hi again, this is a bit shorter than the main story. I'll update other omakes introducing hetalia characters in this AU. This one is about the conversation that Alfred eavesdropped on (is it called eavesdropping if he didn't hear it? Idk) and some insights on Arthur and the curse thing.**

 **I'm having a hard time trying to type out the next one (it's awkward typing it out on the family computer with parents breathing down my neck) so I'm not sure on when I can type it out (I'm in the 4th omake, it's written down)**

 **Till next time ^-^**


	3. Omake 2

**I'm not sure what to think of this one, as I typed it out it seemed a bit . . . eh. Please tell me how you think of this compared to the previous chapters.**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

There were once two friends.

These two were the best in their respective fields of magic, called prodigies by the council and their peers. They were rivals in talents and looks, for the mages would flock to the two for their magical prowess and undeniable beauty.

But despite it all, they still remained friends.

The two would do everything together. Combined, their magical capabilities were able to create new spells, seals, potions, and charms never before seen in the magic community in any nation, sometimes even remaking spells thought to be lost in the midst of time.

These two friends were the perfect pair . . . but, of course, that is not where it ends. Instead, the reason everything happened was because the two were friends, best of friends.

So of course when one of them fell in love, the other was by his side, supporting him all the way as he tried to court the woman of his dreams . . . but in life, nothing was that simple.

In a small feat of cowardice, the lover fell short in confessing his love, so he asked his friend to relay the message for him. As his friend, the other said yes.

So while one was hiding behind a tree near the two, his friend approached his love.

Saying everything the man in love planned, his friend stayed still, all they were waiting for was the lady's reply . . . but it was not what they expected.

The lady cried, not of happiness, but in sorrow. She said that she couldn't accept his friend's declaration of love for she was in love with someone else. Sad for his best friend's fate, the young man nodded and turned around towards the tree where his, surely, heartbroken friend sat.

But a hand stopped him. He turned and saw his friend's unrequited love, tears still cascading from her eyes, holding onto his arm. With a soft, but confident, voice, she started to speak. The man just stood there, eyes wide in shock, fear, and confusion as the love of his friend's life, declared her love for him.

Not sure what to answer, all he said was "I'm sorry", not entirely sure if it was for the girl or for his friend. The girl, not able to hear his internal conflict, just smiled sadly and nodded her head. Then, she left, leaving the man and his heartbroken friend alone in the forest.

After getting out of his stupor, the man continued on his way towards the tree his friend was hiding behind.

Nothing made him ready for what happened next.

The man ducked as a ball of lightning shot above where his head was, hitting and completely destroying the tree behind him. He looked back and saw the remains of what used to be a 50 foot solid oak tree.

Turning around, he faced his friend (?), and froze at the expression on his face.

Anger, hurt, confusion, despair, but mostly betrayal, showed on his (maybe) friend's face, powering his magic to the brim. With his emotions running wild and magic surrounding him, enveloping him in an armor-like covering, his (used to be) friend walked over to him, ever so slowly, as if to relish in his (former) friend's expression of equal parts horror and confusion.

His magic was whipping around him at random intervals, stray attacks targeting the forest scenery around him. With every step he took the ground would tremor, getting stronger and stronger as he got closer to his (once upon a time) friend.

Once there was not even a feet of distance between the two, the (man he previously called) friend spoke. "I did not think that you would do this to me _mon vieil ami_. _"_ His voice was shaking lightly, but of anger or of hurt, the man wasn't sure. "Of all people . . . why you?" His eyes started to glaze over. "Why?"

Still in shock, from both what happened and from the steadily increasing amounts of negative magic coming from the man in front of him, he was unable to form an answer. For the first time, when he needed it the most, his words failed him.

Unfortunately his (not anymore) friend took his silence the wrong way; his expression darkened and his magic got wilder and stronger. Another bolt of lightning shot towards him, forcing him to get over his shock and duck away from the attack.

Finally able to speak, the man opened his mouth to explain his side, but it seems that his time to speak was over. Rolling to his side he dodged another ball, this one made of pure magic and emotion.

It looked as though the person before him was not the friend he used to know, he did not recognize the expression on his face, or the indescribable glint in his eyes.

No, he did not know this person.

With that in mind, instead of dodging and running, he decided to fight back. They have always been an even match; no one was able to match the two. The only one able to beat one is the other and the deciding factor had always been their emotions: who had put more power into their magic?

One was hurt, and the other refused to hurt him.

The ending was determined the moment one was unable to counter. He refused to hurt the (angry, hurt, dejected) man in front of him. The fear of his (ex) friend getting hurt even more made him tone down and lessen his attacks, using magic to obstruct and block him rather than attack him.

The broken-hearted man took that advantage in a heartbeat.

With a cruel (and deranged) smile on his face, he powered up his magic to the brim, forcing it towards his rival and binding him in place. Looking down at him, the unstable man leaned forward and whispered. "Don't underestimate my power _mon petit lapin_." Then in a louder voice he exclaimed, "I will make you regret laying eyes on her!"

Eyes widening, the misunderstood man tried to reason with his (unrequited, for the man knew his friendship was now one-sided) friend, shouted over the roar of magic in the air. " _It's not what you think! Please let me explain! I would never do that to you!"_ Pure anguish can be heard in his voice. Hurt that his long-time friend and rival would not listen to him, the small amount of fight in his body was drained. It took all of his willpower not to just collapse right then and there, leaving himself to the old friend's non-existent mercy.

Staring the man in his eyes, he tried to plead his innocence to the one person who used to be able to understand him with just one look.

But, like he thought earlier, the man in front of him was not the person he befriended for so many years . . . that person was buried, hidden away deep in the mind of the crazed man in front of him, leaving him to deal with a person too clouded by misplaced emotions to think clearly.

"Now look what I caught, a naughty little rabbit!" The man circled him like a tiger circling its prey, hungry for vengeance that his victim did not deserve. "What shall we do, hm~"

He put a hand on his chin and started rubbing the stubble, thinking of what he would do to the man he trapped. Suddenly his eyes widened, the sharp, crazed glint in his eyes brightening, and he gave a smirk that would have made even the bravest of men flee.

"I know" he purred "Since you stole my love and crushed my heart into a thousand pieces . . . I just have to take yours away!"

Everything went still, not even the trees or animals in the forest moved a single inch. It was deathly quiet, broken only by a strange chanting coming from the unbound man in a language that has been banned and lost in the midst of time.

The trapped man watched, helpless, as the man in front of him (who was once his friend) finished speaking, a seal above him where his hand was outstretched into the sky

The man pulled down his hand and pointed to the bound man before him. The seal slowly went down on him, and he whispered a soft goodbye to his . . . friend.

" _Adieu,_ Arthur."

The seal descended and Arthur opened his mouth into a silent scream. Looking at his (now) enemy, he pleaded once more for it to stop.

"Francis." He called out.

" _Je suis desole, mon ami_." The magic was done, it was over. In Francis' hand was a small ball of light, all the emotions and feelings of his old friend; in front of him, still bound with his previous display of magic, was an unconscious Arthur.

For a short moment, Francis regretted his actions, he looked at the unconscious form of his rival and his heart clenched with an emotion that he tried not to understand. That moment was gone, and Francis decided that there was no room in his heart for regret.

In memory of their past friendship Francis put his arms underneath Arthur's neck and knees and lifted him up, still holding the man's heart in his hand. He started walking, carrying the man towards his home. As they neared the mountain where Arthur's home lies, he felt his heart clench again, guilt creeping up and clearing his mind enough to see what he had done when he let the negative emotions take over.

With a small voice, he whispered to the unconscious man in his arms, " _Desole mon cher_ , I know I can never take back what I did, and I know that you may never forgive me. I only wish that what I will do next will ease this burden that I have placed upon you."

Francis waved his hand over him, rewriting his seal as much as he can, using his guilt and fraternal love for Arthur to power him.

"This can be righted. I know that one day there will be a person who will free you from this burden. And I am sure that he will love you as much as I have loved my dear _Jeanne_. I can only hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

"G . . . git" the (supposed to be unconscious) man mumbled, his voice as blank as the expression on his face. The only emotion to be seen was a flash of what looked to be both sorrow and joy. As fast as it came, it was gone, reminding Francis of what he has done. "I already forgave you. It's good to see you back to your normal, froggy, self."

Tears welled in his eyes; he clutched Arthur's heart and held him closer, repeating apologies like a chant, wishing with all his heart that it would reverse time to before all this happened.

But sadly, no magic on Earth can turn back time. All he could do now was wait. Until the day the one would break his spell and give Arthur his heart back.

They entered Arthur's castle, people stopped what they were doing and stared as the two made their way up the staircase and into Arthur's room. He placed the (now-heartless) man on his bed and they locked eyes. After a while, Arthur decided to break the silence.

"Is that it then?" he pointed to the small object still clutched in Francis' hand.

" _Oui_."

"What should we do with it?" Arthur asked, his stoic expression not changing.

Francis looked at his hand and opened it; the two of them leaned in and saw what he was holding. In Francis' hand was a small seed.

It was tiny, smaller than a baby's fingernail.

Francis gave a small smile and looked at the emotionless man in front of him. "I know exactly what to do with it."

He walked over to the sole window of Arthur's room, overlooking the garden that he knew his friend had loved and painstakingly grew for years. Rolling the seed in his hand, he looked over to Arthur, who was still wearing the same expression.

Understanding what Francis was going to do, he gave a small nod.

Francis stared him in the eye and asked. "Are you sure about this?" Arthur paused, thinking over his decision, and he gave another nod, firmer and surer than the one before.

Closing his eyes, Francis let the seed drop down into the flower bed.

" _Je suis encore désolé cher_. I did not think it would go like this." Arthur just stared at him, his face unreadable. "There is only one thing that I am sure of; you _will_ get your heart back. You deserve happiness, and I am sure that Fate knows this as well."

Arthur did not answer; he merely looked away from him.

Francis pursed his lips "You may not believe me; I know that I have not given you any reason to do so, but I am absolutely sure that you will be able to achieve your happiness. I have no doubts!"

He walked towards the door and, with one last look at Arthur, he went outside. Going down the stairs he steeled himself from the questions and accusations that Arthur's loyal servants will surely ask him.

And he had every intention to tell the truth.

Just as he suspected, the lobby was filled with servants who stopped their work to find out what happened to their dear young master. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could let a single word out, someone beat him to it.

"We were attacked." A voice behind him said, he turned and saw Arthur at the top of the stairs wearing the same stoic expression. As he went down the stairs, one by one the servant's eyes widened as they fully took in their master and friend's situation.

While going down the stairs, there wasn't a single change in his expression; the light in his eyes were dulled, not showing a single thing. For the servants who grew up with the green eyed boy whose eyes would light up when elater or darken when mad or depressed, seeing him like that struck them hard.

"Arthur-sama?" the kitsune head butler, Kiku (long story), asked. "What happened?"

Arthur told them a story. About how someone was jealous of their power and attacked them, how they weren't able to fend off his dark power, how Francis risked his life to save him, how his heart was stolen and sealed into an object they knew not.

About how it wasn't Francis' fault

As Arthur told the story (a lie, both of them knew) Francis felt tears in the corner of his eyes, he did not understand why Arthur would do that . . . after everything he did.

 _Why?_

Yao, the serpent-eyed cook (again, long story), noticed his tears. "Aiyaa! Are you alright?"

It caught the other's attention and they started to pat his head and rub his back, telling him that it was alright, that it was over, _that he was so brave to do something like that._

These actions just made the tears fall even more, not believing that he deserved such- such comfort! After what he did to their master!

Turning to Arthur, Francis saw him looking at him with the same unreadable expression, but, for just a moment, Francis thought he saw a small reassuring smile on his face, and Francis knew that Arthur has a chance.

And that he would have a chance at redemption.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Pardon my French *ahem* my only source is google translate so I'm not sure if they are correct. Please correct me if I'm wrong.**

 _ **mon vieil ami –**_ **my old friend**

 _ **mon petit lapin**_ **– my little rabbit (I have no idea why but for some reasons fanfics say that France calls England this?)**

 _ **Adieu**_ **– Farewell**

 _ **Je suis desole, mon ami**_ **– I'm sorry, my friend**

 _ **Desole mon cher**_ **– Sorry (?) my dear**

 _ **Oui**_ **– yes**

 _ **Je suis encore désolé cher**_ **– I'm sorry again dear**

 ** _Kitsune_ – Japanese fox yokai (I'm thinking of making origins for some of the workers in the castle and stuff)**

 **I wanted to show that these two were really close, not in a romantic way though so I had Francis call him 'dear' at times, like I imagine Arthur calling him 'love' or 'poppet' sometimes (other than the usual 'frog' or 'git'). They both love each other very much, but strictly in a non-romantic way . . . this is, after all, a USUK fic ^-^**


	4. Omake 3

**Sorry it took a while guys. *Sighs* the troubles of a writer without a personal laptop . . . and there is also the fact that I am doing this without permission (heh).**

 **Not beta-ed so please tell me if I missed anything**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

They say that when you are about to die your life flashes before your eyes, but for Kiku, he's lived too long a life to be able to re-live it in the few minutes he had left. No, all he felt was a wet warmth on his side where he had been struck, and at the same time an unending cold and darkness everywhere else.

Lying underneath his tree, all he could do now was to wait until he bled out in the snow and finally be able to be with his family on the other side of the uncrossed river.

As he closed his eyes, ready to welcome Death, he heard a short shout of exclamation. It sounded not too far off, but Kiku was already too drained and too tired to open his eyes. He heard the crunching of the snow coming closer to where he lay; he then felt a small warmth on the top of his head.

A few whispered words were said and suddenly the warmth between his pointed ears spread across his entire body. Kiku felt his strength return and the gaping wound on his side slowly closing. The warmth stopped once it reached the tip of his tail and he heard a small sigh of relief.

Blinking, Kiku opened his eyes. Crouching in front of him was a small human boy; he looked no older than 5 years of age. Confused, Kiku looked around to try and find any sign of another person that could have healed him, but no, the only people in the area were the child and him.

Healing magic was an extremely advanced form of magic that takes years to master, so it was understandable that Kiku was confused as to what happened.

His confusion must have shown on his face, for the boy in front of him started to blush and stutter out an explanation. "W-well, I couldn't've left you all alone there in the snow! I-it wouldn't be gentlemanly of me."

The boy looked down, not meeting his eyes, "I-I know you don't believe me, b-but it's true. I c-couldn't just leave you there to die." The small human stood up and brushed the snow off his trousers. "W-well," looking very uncomfortable, his eyes darted around looking everywhere else but Kiku, "I t-think I should t-take my leave then."

The boy started to turn away. Not wanting to leave his savior without settling his debt, Kiku quickly went up and blocked the boy's way.

Startled at the fox's (for indeed, that was what Kiku looked like), the child took a step back. Kiku rubbed the top of his head to the boy's side, nudging the boys' hand to rub his head, silently requesting him not to be scared.

After a moment of hesitation the boy started to stroke the patch of fur in between Kiku's ears, feeling it under his fingertips. The child let out a soft giggle, finally looking his age, as he pet the fox more. Kiku let out a soft purr, letting the boy know that he enjoyed it as well.

After a while, the boy stopped and sat down in the snow, leaning on Kiku's tree. The fox walked over to the child and put his head on his lap, wordlessly telling him to continue his petting. With a small but bright smile, the boy obliged. "I guess this means you want me to stay huh?" he muttered

Kiku looked up at him and nodded. The boy's smile increase tenfold; then it disappeared, replaced, instead, by a look of longing. The boy looked as though he wasn't seeing what was in front of him, his bright green eyes dulling. "I guess that makes one . . ."

Tears started to flow from the boy's eyes, dropping into Kiku's fur. The fox growled lightly and sat up, licking and nudging the boy's face, trying to ask him the reason for his tears. The boy wrapped his arms around Kiku, mumbling into his, now wet, fur.

Kiku stilled as he listened the small child as he poured his heart out. Giving him silent support as the boy told him about his brothers, how they would pick on him and tease him because he was the youngest, how others would avoid him because of his abnormally strong magic, how all he wanted was for someone to stay with him for even just a moment.

The forest was silent as the boy finished his tale, as if the spirits of the land were mourning for the child and his misfortunes. After a few minutes the boy let Kiku go and wiped his hand with his sleeve. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the boy turned back to Kiku and looked into his eyes. "Thank you."

The child's voice was so sincere, and Kiku couldn't help but wonder why he was thanking him. It was Kiku that should be thanking the boy, not the other way around.

Tilting his head to the side, Kiku tried to decipher what the boy meant. As if understanding his dilemma, the boy spoke. "Well, you haven't left yet . . . you listened to my useless ramblings and let me cry. This is the first–" he trailed off, eyes once again dulling.

That moment, Kiku decided that this boy completely deserved what he was about to do.

"What is your name child?" the fox asked, not needing to open his mouth; instead, speaking directly into his mind.

"M-my name is Arthur Kirkland." The boy, now named Arthur, blinked at the Kiku, trying to make sense of the new situation.

"For saving my life, I am in your debt. Speak, what is it that you wish for the most in this world? My power is at your disposal."

Looking away from him, Arthur mumbled his wish. "I wish that someone will want to be my friend, so that I won't have to be so alone anymore."

The wish both surprised Kiku, and not.

After all the boy has confessed about his life, it is no wonder that the boy would wish for a companion; but the fact that it was what Arthur wanted more than anything in the world . . . it made Kiku feel for the child in front of him. To go through so much heartache that a child his age shouldn't know yet.

It reminded Kiku of what he felt when his clan died, leaving him all alone; wishing for a companion to share his misery with.

Kiku had no regrets for granting the boy's wish, nor will he regret how he will grant it; but as per his clan's tradition, he asked the boy again.

"Is that truly what you want? You can wish for absolutely anything and I will grant it."

Arthur looked him in the eye, the expression on his face making him seem older than he was. "Sir, that is all I have ever wanted."

"Then it shall be yours."

In less than a second, instead of a fox there was a boy. He was barely three years older than Arthur, about two heads taller and wearing a formal kimono-like clothing that the nobles in the East wear. He stood straight, black hair framing his pale face until just below his ears.

The older boy folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes and gave him a full 90 degree bow.

In the same voice as the fox, he spoke. "I am Kiku of the Honda tribe. I swear that I shall stay by your side until the day I die. I will never leave your side unless you wish me to. I promise that you will never have to feel alone ever again."

Tears welled up in Arthur's eyes, making Kiku worried that he did something wrong. The kitsune took a step towards the younger boy, but was almost toppled over by a strong force that pushed itself onto his stomach.

Kiku looked down and saw Arthur hugging him, tears staining his Kimono. Rubbing circles into the human's back, Kiku waited until the boy regained his composure.

After a few more minutes Arthur pulled back, mumbling a soft but sincere "thank you", and gave him a small kiss on the cheek (like a child would give their parents) and quietly fell asleep.

* * *

After all of the other servants went back to their jobs, Kiku confronted Francis.

"You have ten seconds to tell me what really happened or you will regret ever putting a finger on the young master."

Shocked, Francis stuttered out "Wh-what? I don't – "

"Do not play dumb with me." His eyes flashed and Kiku's pupils shrunk into slits. "The magic we all felt came from you. Now tell me what happened or I will just have to assume the worst and impose judgment for what you did to our precious master."

Francis sighed and explained everything that happened in the forest. Kiku did not interrupt, listening to Francis' tale with an impassive face.

After Francis finished there was silence. The air was thick with tension as Kiku looked at the magic-user, trying to see if there was even a single lie in what he just said.

Kiku sighed, seeing that the man was telling the truth he spoke. "I believe you, but do not misunderstand me. I do not trust you; if I even see you do anything remotely similar to what just happened today I will make you wish for death. The young master seems to have forgiven you and still trusts you, but I do not. Do not make the mistake of breaking that trust ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

Francis swallowed, throat dry from the blatant threat. " _Oui,_ I do."

With a hair-raising smile on his face, the kitsune grasped his shoulder (a little harder than it should be) and left the room.

* * *

 **Edited: 12/30/16: Just saw a few errors in the grammar and stuff, nothing major**


End file.
